


Memoirs of a Molested Girl

by porcupinefluff



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Extremely Underage, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Incest, Molestation, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-08-14 10:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcupinefluff/pseuds/porcupinefluff
Summary: Starting around the time I was about seven until age nine, my Saturday morning routine was pretty similar. I was an early riser and I would always pad downstairs to the living room couch in my footie pajamas or long t-shirt by 6:30, before the good stuff on TV even started. I liked the quiet solitude, the sense of not being watched. I still do. Several months after he moved in with us, my stepdad started making it a habit to wake up early on Saturdays, too. But he was there for me, not the cartoons.





	1. After-school Activities

**Author's Note:**

> I don't condone any of these behaviors in real life. This is all fiction, and meant to be a fantasy.

My mom started taking off-hour shifts when I was seven. It was made possible by my stepfather's ready availability to watch me in the evenings. She asked me frequently what I thought about him, whether I liked spending time with him. I was always glowing. I don't think she ever suspected our secrets.

One Wednesday, my mom wasn't going to get back til after my bedtime. It was just my stepdad and me all evening. This was still very early on in our time together. It would be our third encounter. I had played with him on the two previous early Saturdays, but it hadn't gone past touching yet. This was the first afternoon it did.

From the time I came home from school, he made it clear that he was interested in me. He was much more physical than usual, picking me up, tickling, singing songs and making faces, all around high energy fun. We put on video games and talked about doing some elaborate cooking for dinner. For a second grader, that meant melting some cheese over a sandwich in the oven, but we put on the radio and I was totally into the adventure of raiding the fridge and making a stacked-up concoction. He twirled me around adorably in my school uniform jumper as we sang along.

We ate a tasty dinner in front of the TV. Pretty soon, the energy rush abated and we caught our breath. Then, gradually, I started feeling a different vibe from my stepdad. It felt like the past couple Saturdays. We were in the same position on the couch we had been last time. Sure enough, as we finished eating and were casually flipping around the channels, he maneuvered his cuddle, putting his arm around my chest. I was naive about a lot, but I knew that he had gone straight for my boobs. Or, if I wasn't completely flat, where they would be.

Without saying much, he worked his hand inside my jumper, feeling me over the thin layer of my uniform shirt. I wasn't wearing any kind of undershirt or training bra. He flicked his fingertips over my nipples. I'm not sure whether I found that arousing, but they protruded and felt a little more swollen each time he passed over them.

I was excited though frightened that he was touching me like he was. I knew this was a textbook example of bad touch as defined by the police officer that visited class once. Before, when he'd touched me in the early mornings in my pajamas, I could explain it to myself as just a sort of advanced cuddling. Having my school uniform on added a sense that there were probably some rules being broken. But I also knew he was one of the special people with veto power over these kinds of things. He could decide if a bad touch is really bad or just playing around. Basically, I was sure anyone would agree, if it's your daddy, there's probably an exception to the rule.

In the same casual tone like he was telling me something he did at work, he started giving me his story about the pain that his erection was causing him, and how I could help release his built-up love. He indicated his tented pants, but didn't expose himself. While he spoke, I stared down at the large bulge, anxious and quiet. I wasn't completely following, but I had a feeling he was about to ask me to do one of the things we had only talked about before, something to do with my mouth.

But he was sensitive to my tension. He held me and slowed the movement of his touch. He stroked my hair, complimenting it; praised my honor roll status in school, my help with chores around the house, my good behavior around my mother and him. And he wrapped up with a bargain - if I would help him out with his pain for ten minutes, and maybe I used my mouth to make it go quicker, afterwards we'd make some dessert, and play on the computer til bedtime. Like the wellbehaved child I aspired to be, I agreed to daddy's schedule. When he put it the way he did, it really didn't seem wrong or unusual for a parent to ask a child to help with a pain.

He excused himself to the bathroom, and told me to meet him upstairs in his bedroom in two minutes, ready to help him. I did as he asked, climbed nervously up the stairs a few seconds behind him, and struggled up on my mom and stepdad's tall bed. I wasn't sure how to get ready. I listened to the water running in the bathroom. Random like kids are, I checked out their pillows, buried my nose in their soft coolness and sniffed deeply. One pair was clearly my mom's sweet soap and perfume, the other stank of my stepdad's masculine body odor and an alcoholbased cologne. I leaned back into my mom's soothing pillows. I almost fell into a nap when I was shocked back to attention.

He opened the door, crossing over from the bathroom tile to the carpet wearing only his boxers, bulge on display. I did think he was very handsome. He was tall and long-limbed, in good shape under his clothes. Not bulging with muscle, but no flab, and a solid stomach. He said he was almost ready to play. He fiddled with putting his ring on the bedside table. I could tell he was also turning on the camera that was already there, though he was quick and maybe hiding it from me. He plopped playfully on top of the covers next to me and grinned, asking me if I was ready.

I was still wearing my school dress. He sat me up, and unzipped my back. He pushed the upper folds down and I shimmied out. That left me giggling in my panties and uniform shirt. The shirt got quickly unbuttoned, wiggled out of, and unceremoniously dumped alongside the jumper. We sat up side by side in bed like that for a minute, little in panties and big in boxers. I caught him staring at my chest. He reached over and took one of my nipples in his fingers, rolling it around, then leaned in and kissed the other. He sucked and pulled at it with his mouth, then gently bit it, making me yelp and laugh.

He laughed too, but brought my attention back to himself, reminding me that his penis was getting really sore again. He slipped it out of the fly and exposed his erection to me, hands on his hips, letting it pulse and bob in the open air, presented to me. He fluffed the pillows up behind him to sit at a comfortable angle, his cock protruding out of his lap as he spread his legs. He moved me to get between his knees and face him.

I sat my pink panty-clad butt back on my heels. I felt so important and lucky that my daddy had picked me to share these secrets with. I reached out and inspected his cock with my fingers from base to tip, truly engrossed, making embarrassing, earnest investigative noises. (He showed me the video, by the way, if you're wondering how I remember this much detail. I'd make him fast forward over this part.) His penis was warm, hard and squishy at the same time. I jerked it, squeezing and rolling the skin, uncertainly, trying like he showed me before. I looked up at him for approval.

In response he started thrusting his hips gently at me. It was the move I'd later come to realize was his signature sign of sexual frustration, that whatever I was doing wasn't enough to get him off. Even then, I think I understood. He had said he wanted me to use my mouth. What did that mean? I let his penis go, embarrassed that I was doing it wrong, paralyzed without a signal from daddy what to do next.

He smiled and laughed a little. He reassured me that he liked when I touched him. But, if I could just try to fit as much of him as I could inside my mouth, it would feel really, really good. Then, all of the "love" that had built up inside him would release, and if I kept my mouth on it, I could swallow it. I was nervous, especially about that last part. But it was a task that daddy had set for me. I was going to achieve it, and do it right.

I dipped apprehensively towards the mushroom head. Each time I hesitated, I looked up at him, as if for a reprieve. He was stony-faced, and would only nod encouragement. Finally, I stuck my tongue out, and dove in for a quick lick on the side of the head. It didn't taste like much of anything, just skin, like I'd licked my arm. I stayed down there and gave the head a few more sweet and playful licks.

That was well and good, daddy told me, and I could play like that, and that was fun. But he was actually getting in a lot of pain. So if we were going to finish up, I was supposed to open up my mouth wide like a big girl, and keep my teeth back, and then help to suck the love out.

Obediently, I opened up, and started lowering my head down. I put the tip of his penis in my mouth. And froze. Again, it just felt like putting my mouth on skin. I was rather clueless and just stayed put. He put his hand at the base of his cock, and told me to start sucking. Just as I obeyed, he jerked his cock upwards. He moaned deeply, and I got my first mouth-coating dose of salty, mucusy precum. I winced and pulled back, drawing a string of thick drool back to my mouth. I licked my lips at the bitter new flavor that I would come to know as daddy's.

I said it was weird, and started laughing, nervously, wiping my chin. I told him I wasn't sure. He extolled me to just give it another try. Although I was finding oral sex sort of yucky to start, there was an implicit understanding that I needed to satisfy him before we could leave the bed. And this is how he wanted me to do it. He suggested that I try kissing it. So I moved my face towards his cock again, and started kissing it all over in a silly way, making smacking noises. He let me do that for a minute. Then he told me that we could play around like that and it would take all night, but if I really wanted to help him, I had to put him in my mouth and try to go deep like a big girl.

I was a little old even then for that big girl business, but I knew he said some weird things whenever he had his so-called pain or needed to release his love. And I wasn't one to correct daddy. So I opened my lips, sunk my head down, and put my mouth over his penis head. I immediately looked up for approval. He was so intent on me, and looked so pleased. So I tried to push in more, and with effort the ridge of his head eked past my lips.

I held position there, feeling his penis fill up my mouth for the first time. It was a little hard to breathe. He gushed about how good it felt; inwardly I beamed. My tongue hesitantly explored and pressed into his piss slit. I tasted that flavor again, salty, soapy, and I worried that it was gross but I was still committed to trying to like it. He asked me, did I think I could go a little deeper? I did try, opening my jaw wider than the dentist, reaching out with my lips to get that little bit more. But I was overenthusiastic and I choked badly. He moaned as I dramatically gagged and retched, and I pulled back, sputtering and coughing until I caught my breath. I cowered from his raging purple, slobber-shiny penis, wary, almost at the point of calling things off.

He brought his hand to the side of my head, and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. I love you so much, sweetie, he said to me. A rare declaration. I melted a little. He said that my lips on his penis made him feel so good. He wanted me to feel good too, the same way, so we'd try something.

He suddenly spun us around so I was the one propped up on the pillows. I was still laughing at the unexpectedness as he wiggled my panties down my little butt, threw them aside, then got me on my back and held my knees apart. He brought his face close to my immature pussy. He simply stared at it for a while. I was half self-conscious exposing my parts this immodestly, half thrilled at the attention.

And then he dove his face into me. I felt the scratchy edges of his stubble all around my privates. He gave me a big lick, from the bottom of my vulva up, tickling and surprising me. His tongue was bigger than my whole pussy. Then he was delicate, kissing and gently sucking my lips; but then he literally put it all inside his mouth, my whole vulva, and stuck the tip of his tongue inside my hole - a wiggly, fleshy invasion. I was too jumpy and giggly and not at all prepared for that. I liked the attention, a lot, but it just tickled so much and I couldn't sit still. It was my first experience having a tongue on my pussy, which sounds serious in retrospect but at the time it felt like the silliest part of the game so far.

He pulled his face back, grinningly, halfheartedly telling me to calm down, and stood up on his knees next to me. He stroked his cock slowly above my face, my legs still thoughtlessly spread wide open. I was still laughing from daddy's mouth on my puss. He put two fingers on my vulva, and rubbed my puffy lips in a circular motion. I'm not sure I strongly felt sexual pleasure in those early play sessions, but it felt good to allow him to do what he wanted with me to feel good. The smell of my mom's sweet pillow mixed with the sweat from his undercarriage as he jerked off above me.

Then he got more serious. His pace quickened. He pointed himself toward my mouth. He asked me if I was ready for cum. I had a vague feeling what he meant, and it terrified me. He took his hand off my pussy and stroked my forehead, as if to calm me, though my pulse was racing. He said I should open my mouth wide. I did, but I also timidly receded into the pillow. He scooted forward to cover the distance. The tip came to my lips, slipped inside, and he continued jerking himself. Gradually he pushed forward more, and I had no more room to back up. Soon most of, then the whole head was crammed inside my mouth again.

I knew he was going to shoot his stuff imminently. We had only had a couple of sessions but I'd picked up on that much. My head shook as his strokes were more vigorous. His stomach rippled and he breathed heavily. He told me to watch my teeth, and I struggled to comply under his movements. Then he told me he was going to put all of his love into my mouth. The more I could swallow, he said, the more of his love I would feel inside of me.

I felt his free hand stroke my hair, and come to rest on the top back of my head. Rapidly his whole body tensed up. He pushed in a little further, and then the first spurt squirted hotly in my mouth. It was watery but viscous, like a shot of strange soapy seawater. Before I had time to think much about it, another spurt, but bigger, filled up all the space in my mouth around his head. And another spurt. Seawater drowning felt like a possibility. My instinct was to pull away, but his hand had snuck around and was there to keep my head still. He urged me to swallow it, and with little alternative I did desperately gulp it down, praying that he would be done soon. In spite of my efforts it was too much. I squeaked and complained, and with nowhere else for it to go, daddy's gooey love drooled out the corners of my mouth. Then he was done squirting, and his whole body relaxed.

He let me free, sputtering and coughing. My mouth and throat were coated with his thick residue. I started crying a little. He held me tenderly, and told me how happy I had made him. I nestled nakedly into his arms in the big bed, and only then allowed myself to start sobbing heavily. It made me even sadder because he thought I was crying because he'd hurt me. I couldn't find words to express to him how that wasn't it at all. Really I was sad I wasn't able to do all the grown-up things just the way he had wanted them. I was despondent that I had messed everything up, and we'd never get to play those games or feel that closeness again.

But when I got the deep sobs out of my system, my face hiding buried in his arms, I felt better. Then I realized that he was somehow on the defensive, trying to make me smile with an offer of some sundaes for dessert. I was almost confused that he wasn't more angry or disappointed with me for letting him down. But sundaes would be fine with me. I stopped sniffling and went to my room and put on play clothes. A while later we were back on the couch together with bowls of ice cream. It was almost as though not much had happened. Then I licked my lips and caught the taste of daddy's male flavor again, his salty bitterness dried and sticky on my chin. I made my mind up that it didn't taste great, but I was going to be ok with tasting it again if I had to.


	2. Almost Missed the Bus

My mom shook me awake at dawn, far earlier than necessary. I shivered and turned away, curled into my comforter. We'd left the window open a crack and a chill had snuck in overnight. But when she pulled the blinds the sun came shining in, glistening off the dew on the lawns, and warmed the blankets. I inhaled deeply, yawned and stretched. The breezy air smelled earthy and floral and warm. 

Some mornings, like this one, my mom had a long commute requiring her to leave before my bus, but she tried to spend mornings with me anyway. She was more brisk than harsh today, in a good mood for no particular reason, but who needs a reason on a nice Spring day.

She shooed me out of bed into the shower. I was an only child and in some respects she organized my schedule to the absolute details. She laid out my uniform, combed my hair and tied it into two cute pigtails, made sure I was well put together. She poured cereal and milk for me and asked about what I had coming up in second grade. 

My stepdad stumbled downstairs only a few minutes before my mom had to leave. He wasn't going in to work until later, and he was a bit disheveled, wearing sweats, unshaven, and I could faintly smell something when he walked in. I still had 45 minutes before I needed to walk around the corner to the bus stop, which my mom thought was a great opportunity for me to read a boring chapter book I was assigned. My mom told my stepdad with mock sternness that he should really take a shower sooner rather than later, then she left. 

Almost as soon as it was just me and him, tension solidified. We both half continued what we were doing and half looked at each other, listened to the garage door hum then click shut. Then in the quiet we started one of those staring contests which quickly break into nervous laughter. I didn't have to read the book if I didn't want to, he let me know. If I wanted to watch TV with him, we could do that instead. 

I knew what he meant. I fidgeted and felt nervous. I was all dressed and ready; I didn't want to do anything messy. But I also wouldn't say no to something daddy asked me to do. With just a half-moment's quiet hesitation, mindlessly finishing a sentence about someone's hardscrabble life on some farm on some plain, I gathered up my school bag and followed him from the kitchen table to the living room couch. 

He turned on the TV, changed channels til he found something kid-friendly, and simultaneously deftly pressed some buttons on the video camera he suddenly had. Then he turned to me, stubble-faced, his hair cowlicked in the back, smiling. He told me he wanted to play with me. I smiled bashfully, hiding my face away from the camera, blushing. 

He told me he would make me feel good first. I felt a tingling anticipation between my legs; I thought he was going to rub my pussy like he did sometimes. He reached up under my jumper with both hands and tugged at my panties. I had to lift my butt to let them go. He slipped them down over my long socks and we paused a moment over my buckled-up shoes with some consternation; I kept them on, slipped one foot out and kept my panties around my other ankle. 

Then he knelt in front of me, pushing my legs apart at the knees. He pushed up my dress, and my pussy was out in the open. To my surprise, he dipped his head between my legs. I felt his warm lips kiss right above my pussy, then suckle on first one, then the other puffy lip of my vulva. He took my whole little pussy in his mouth, brushing my legs with his scratchy beard, probing and licking with his tongue.

And I liked it. Feeling him lick me felt good and I wanted him to keep doing it. I won't get carried away in saying how wildly pleasurable it was, I was too childishly confused and nervous to really let myself go in the moment, but even at that age I felt the compulsion for more stimulation down there. The fleshy sucking movements of his mouth against my privates shot out little pulses of electricity. 

He kept it up for a couple of minutes. I mostly stayed still, not sure where to look, awkwardly watching the Nickelodeon sitcom on TV over his head. My pussy started feeling strangely better, like something inside me was cresting. 

But then he stopped. He got up off his knees, and took off his shirt. I started to scoot up as well, but he pushed me gently down to stay in place. When he stood, he hooked his fingers down his sweatpants and revealed his hard cock and balls. I was instantly greeted with a more intense version of what I'd smelled before, the curious unplaceable mix of personal odor and perfume and fishy...something. But I didn't get a chance to investigate him closer yet. 

Instead, he hovered over me, and then lined up his cock directly at my pussy. And he pushed the head up against my lips, and thrust up against me. This was a particular "first time" that I remember, the first time his genitals made direct contact with mine. His saliva and precum slicked my hairless vagina, though he didn't try to fuck me. He only went so far as rubbing his cock against me. He picked up the camera to zoom in on where we joined, then left it on the side table for a full view. 

I felt so small underneath him. His thing against me didn't feel as good as his tongue, but I still liked how pleased I was making him. I did what I could to help, spreading my legs far apart, holding the tip of my shoe with one hand, holding up my jumper with the other. He kept rubbing himself against me, and then started pushing harder, which scrunched me back into the couch. He was blocking all the light, and his body totally enveloped mine. My face was almost against his chest, then smushed against it as he stroked forward, and I smelled his underarms. I closed my eyes and let him continue doing whatever he wanted.

Soon he stood up again. Without speaking, he pulled at my sleeve and I knew he wanted me to sit up. I was at the right level, and he brought his penis to my lips. I noticed there was some unusual whitish stuff around the head. I didn't think too much of it, and I opened my mouth, obediently submissive to his oral penetration. But the tangy sharp taste matched the curious smell, and I recoiled, sputtering and going "bleh" over and over. 

My stepdad laughed at my reaction. "Sorry," he told me. "I was sharing my love with your mom this morning, too. I didn't get a chance to wipe it off yet. But it's all natural. It's all clean. You'll get used to the taste." 

I whined and shook my head with pursed lips as he pushed towards my mouth with his penis. "You've gotta hurry up and help me cum or you're gonna be late for the bus," he warned me. 

That made me relent - at that age, I didn't want to cause trouble, or get in trouble; whatever it took to avoid trouble. My head back against the couch cushion, I parted my lips just a crack, but my stepdad took the opening and pushed his penis inside. I relented and moved quickly to avoid any teeth. He stuffed the whole cockhead inside, and I just tried not to think about the taste. He needed to be done quick - that was the most important thing, and I needed to do what I could to hurry him up. 

He told me to try to relax my jaw. So I did. I tried to relax everything, my whole body to my fingers and toes, and closed my eyes. I felt his hands move to the side of my head, holding me still while he pushed slowly in and out. Then he took hold of my pigtails, and rocked his hips, pulling me and pushing himself back and forth over my tongue and lips. 

He pulled out all the way back, and told me to take a deep breath. I did, and pulled back with anxiety, but he kept hold of my hair and pushed forward again nonetheless. 

"You've gotta swallow all of it, ok? You can't get anything on your clothes." I try to complain and fidget but he didn't pay much mind. 

"You've just gotta relax," he says. At this point he has my back to the couch, my pigtail in his left hand, the camera in his right, and the tip of his cockhead between my lips. He put the camera on the end table, pointed at us, and started to jerk himself off into my mouth. My head shakes with his motions, and I start to complain somewhat more intensely, but he's not really taking notice. Quite the opposite, he's rubbing himself faster, gripping my hair harder. I squeak and try to scrunch up away from him, in vain. 

Then he grunted. He slowed, and suddenly his penis pulsed out thick gobs straight into my mouth. As soon as I noticed he was starting, I started sucking and trying to swallow, desperate to avoid error. It was thick, and quickly filled my mouth to the cheeks. It resisted quick swallowing, and tasted salty mixed in with the acidic persistent flavor. 

The spurts filled my mouth, but with several gulps I swallowed everything. Actually, it seemed like less quantity came out than usual. I kept sucking afterwards, slowly, methodically, looking up at him, proud to show proof that I'd taken his entire emission without spitting any out. He withdrew from my mouth, and a single droplet was in danger of dripping down, but my stepdad scooped it under my chin on his finger. He raised it up to my mouth, and I willingly parted my lips and sucked his finger clean. 

Once the moment was over, we had to move fast. The clock had moved quicker than expected and I had to leave in five minutes. I fit my other shoe back through my panties and pulled them on, feeling the slight wetness still down there. I ran upstairs to my bathroom and rinsed the residue off my lips and chin. It crossed my mind to brush my teeth again, but then I decided maybe I didn't really need to. 

I grabbed my stuff, decided I didn't need a jacket either, and yelled back to my stepdad that I wasn't late, that I saw my neighbor just now walking down to the stop. With a sense of relief, I opened the front door, and stepped outside proudly into the sun. I'd helped my stepdad finish in time. I wasn't going to be late, and I'd started the day with an accomplishment. Waiting for the bus I stayed a little aloof from the other kids, beaming, running my tongue over the salty, bleachy reminder that lingered and coated my whole mouth.


	3. Soccer Practice Cooldown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't condone any of these behaviors in real life. This is all fiction, and meant to be a fantasy. 
> 
> I'd love to hear from you, if you like any of my stories.

My stepdad was sometimes assistant coach of my soccer team. It was so fun to have him around. He would set up real practice drills and could keep up with us without getting tired, unlike the sedate woman who passed for our head coach. I genuinely don't know if he had ulterior motives volunteering to coach little girls, but he actually injected some fundamental skills into our game. The other girls always listened to his instructions. I was jealous for his attention every time he critiqued one of my teammates, but I held my tongue. I could tell he didn't want to give me special treatment. He would still correct my form and shout at me to hustle, like everyone. I pushed myself extra hard to impress him. 

Soon it was dusk. We lingered in the orange light to help the coach put the cones back in her SUV. Then it was just us. He took me by the hand back across the warm autumn field to his car, and we drove home with an open sunroof and windows and zipped around the curvy suburban roads back to our empty dark house. I'd almost forgotten mom was on second shift again. She'd kindly left chicken pasta for us to heat up in the microwave. I was ravenous after the hard workout, and sore besides. The comfort food called and I was snarfing it down at the kitchen table within fifteen minutes of getting home. I was a scrawny kid, but I could eat sometimes. 

My stepdad was eating at a more reasonable pace on the couch. I sauntered over and slumped next to him. Food coma was setting in quickly. When he cleared his plate, I took off my socks, and stretched out my tight muscles from my legs to my toes, draping them over his lap. He offered me a wonderful foot massage. His big hands easily manipulated my feet, working his fingers between each of my tiny toes. After hours in cleats, it felt amazing. He squeezed and rubbed my heels, then my tight calves, and my thighs, up to my shorts. I relaxed and sunk back into the couch. 

He brought a foot to his nose, complaining jokingly that I was smelly and needed a shower before bed. I yawned and lazily assented, without making much of a move to get up. He told me again to get cleaned up, and again I demurred, asking for five more minutes. Finally he switched off the TV, told me that was it, and picked me up under my armpits. I was pleased to let him hold me against his chest. I buried my face in his light stubble and shaving cream smell and he carried me up the stairs. 

He took us to my bedroom, and sat me down on the pink-and-white comforter. Before I showered, we were going to play, he told me. Just for a little while. Daddy would give me his love. He added that if I let him do some stretches with my butt, it would be good for soreness after practice, like a deep cool-down stretch. He said he would go get some things and I should try to go number two. I was pretty embarrassed by the request and whined, but he wouldn't have it and shooed me into my bathroom. I did what he asked. I cleaned up especially carefully because I didn't want him to see any mess or paper on my butt like I was a little kid, and I knew he was about to look down there. When I finished he was already back waiting for me. He'd laid a big faded beach towel over my comforter. There were also a couple new items on my bedside table, his video camera, and something like a toothpaste tube. 

He undid his pants and belt and stripped quickly. He sat me on the bed next to him and started playing with me over my light blue soccer shirt and shorts, rubbing my chest and pussy. Then he lifted up my arms and I was topless. As he often did when I first became bare chested to him, he put his lips onto my nipple, and sucked lightly. Then he did the same to the other. Tonight, he also bit my nip a little. Normally that would have got me laughing, but tonight, tired and sore, I just acceded to it with a muted gasp. He guided me onto my back, my head on my pillows. I lazily raised my legs to let him pull away my shorts and my sweat-stained panties. 

He spread my legs apart, and went tongue-first into my little puss. He gave it full, rhythmic licks, teasing the entrance. Again, I was tired, and laid there passively. I wanted to show him that his efforts were pleasing, but that seemed like a lot of effort. After a couple minutes he sat back up. 

He grabbed the tube off the bedside table, opened its cap, and squeezed some clear jelly onto his index and middle fingers. With his other arm he made me pull my legs back further, so my butthole was fully exposed. He brought the cold jellied fingers to my ass and tried pushing one of them inside. It went in quicker than I expected, only accompanied by a strange disorienting fullness. Daddy had put his fingers in my butt a couple times before, but only using his spit, not this stuff. It was going much easier with it. He was still patient, and let me get used to his thick finger. He sunk it deeper and wiggled it around, getting a confused smile out of me. 

The play went on for quite a while. We didn't say much, but he cuddled and stroked my hair as he fingered my butt. He shifted the finger in and out, and it soon felt ok. Shortly after I was lulled back into complacence, he pulled out and tried to re-enter with two fingers. That was a little harder. I grunted and asked him to wait. He did, with extraordinary patience. With the most gradual of pressure, even though I thought he had stopped for me, next time I looked down he had worked both fingers halfway in. He rolled and shifted his fingers inside me, stretching me. It took yet longer this time, but again, he waited until I was relaxed, almost sleepy again. I still had a full belly, and felt a stretched fullness in my rectum, like I had to go to the bathroom, but moving my muscles to push it out was futile against his fingers. 

Eventually he withdrew them carefully. Having got used to them, I now felt an equally disorienting gaping emptiness. Not for long. He moved towards me on his knees, and directed me to lean further back, and hold my ankles further apart. Then I felt a warm pressure, right on my butthole. It was daddy's penis. And he started to press. Press hard. It just indented my skin; he might as well have been pushing against my leg, it was like the hole wasn't even there. He was persistent, but each time he pushed too much he slipped away. 

Seeming a little frustrated, he suddenly scooped me up and flipped me over. He told me huskily, still trying to sound gentle, to get on all fours, though he moved me into the position he wanted anyway. He got behind me and spread my knees wide. I hid my face in the pillow and he pulled my behind up in the air. I liked it a little better than on my back because I was so nervous. I could hear the cap on the tube again, then cold fingers made me clench my butthole. He had to push hard to get his fingers back inside, one, then two again. Once he had the tips in he slipped the two long fingers all the way in, startling me, then slowly in and out just for a few seconds. Then I felt him shifting on my small bed, and he was behind me again. I felt the big blunt end of his penis squishing against me. 

This time, he said, while he pushed, I should pretend like I was going to the bathroom and push out. That would help him get inside. I much preferred being able to sit there quietly as a passive participant, but daddy wanted my help so I had to try. He pushed in while I pushed out. But only the indenting happened again, pushing me forward. I had to keep my hands on the headboard not to move further. 

It seemed like it wasn't going to happen. I was considering asking for a break. But he was intent and pushed more, steadily, hard; then I remembered what he had asked. While he was at full pressure, I let myself push out, just a little. 

With a weird slip, and a moan from daddy, I felt a sudden change. For a couple of time-freezing moments there wasn't even pain yet. Just shock. My insides rapidly readjusted to a completely disproportionate invasion and, behind my closed eyes in the pillow, I saw stars. I was winded, and gasped for air. Then the burning kicked in. We had practiced stretching my anus, a lot, but this was far more than anything I'd experienced before. The fear was worse than the pain. Though it felt vaguely like he had shoved fire inside me, I was more worried that he was stretching me too much, that I would never go to the bathroom normally again. I was too out of breath and shocked to say anything coherent. My animalistic reaction was to struggle mightily to get away. But daddy was ready for that. He leaned forward and held me tightly with one arm, supporting himself with the other, locked into me. 

He pulled me up closer to him and then we didn't move much. I only twitched under his grasp; whenever his penis moved a micrometer it triggered my anal nerves. I was no longer struggling, and started to cry. He was obviously conflicted. He apologized to the back of my head and comforted me with immense sincerity. He started telling me some of his stories. That a part of him, the most loving part, was now inside me. That his love was going inside me in the most direct way possible. 

It helped. I was soon barely sniffling. And when we were sufficiently still for a couple minutes, he was right, it didn't hurt so bad. And I did start to feel the intimate things that he was suggesting. It was a hard-won thing but I'd achieved a new level of closeness with daddy. Enduring this discomfort was part of the responsibility of being his favorite. 

As I relaxed, and he trusted me not to run, he guided me to putting my face back in the pillow, and said he was almost done. I felt him shifting inside me. I winced whenever he moved more than a millimeter. He gradually moved more, and I whined, but quietly into the pillow. Then I could feel his hand jerking his cock, its head still burrowed in my anus. His pace increased. Then he unexpectedly shoved in further, making my butt spasm, and he let out one of the biggest moans I remember from our time together. A roar. I felt him tense, his penis twitching. I knew by the pattern that his love was spewing out. Into me. I thought I could feel it filling me. 

And then he held me, panting, his heart beating against my shoulder, finally still. I felt like we had crossed the finish line of a grueling race. I could finally sleep in daddy's arms with his love inside me. Nonetheless I was still so relieved when he rolled off and pulled out of me. The sudden vacuum caused an urgent need to hurry to the bathroom. A warm trickle ran down my leg. As soon as I hopped off the bed I felt my butt muscles reconfiguring themselves. I walked out the door very tenderly and carefully.I got to the toilet but wanted to check myself out in the mirror first. It did look different - sore and red, not fully closed, with a ribbon of white, pink, and brown streaming down. 

A minute later, my stepdad knocked on the door. He said he loved me, and to make sure I took a shower after I went to the bathroom. He'd be downstairs.

I was fascinated to look at myself, though. I even got out a hand mirror and squatted over it. Finally, I went over to the toilet. It was wet, and noisy. And, this is so childishly weird to admit even for eight-year-old me, but I decided I wanted to keep some of daddy's love inside me. So I didn't push too hard. I showered, put on clean PJ's, and took the steps very slowly downstairs for some last cuddling and TV before bed. If I was already tired before we'd played, I was spent now. I soon halfcrawled up the stairs to bed. 

I woke up the next morning earlier than usual. Immediately I felt a stickiness and wetness down between my legs. I stood, my butt muscles tensed up again, and delicately I walked to the bathroom to inspect. Sure enough, I'd leaked in the night, a wet patch on my bottoms. It was clear, but I wasn't sure if that meant it was daddy or just pee. Without thinking very hard about it, I brought the bottoms up to my mouth and licked the spot to make sure. It was only daddy.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't condone any of these behaviors in real life. This is all fiction, and meant to be a fantasy.
> 
> I hope you'll leave a note if you like the story. Thanks for reading.


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